Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection

She’d consigned the book to the fire a year later, after reading his lordship’s observations on women being no more than children of a larger growth, devoid of real intelligence or good sense and prone to indulging themselves in silly little passions.

“Good. Then you know, as I know, that the side door will be left unlocked at a quarter to twelve tonight, and my maid will be waiting there to bring you to my bedchamber. Not that my romantical sister would blink an eye, anyway, now that you’ve compromised me. In fact, she’ll probably be over the moon to assist us in any assignation. You’ve certainly gone to a whole lot of trouble to do what I’d already suggested you do.”

There was probably something Coop could say to all of this, but he’d be damned if he could think of a thing. By the time they’d returned to Portman Square he’d half convinced himself that, no matter how the world may see him—soldier, patriot, hero, baron—when it came to managing the women in his life, he was a sad case indeed.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u25973cb7-38b6-5eee-b0b0-28ad01a1b954)

THE WORLD WAS a strange place, and London might perhaps be its very center of strangeness, or at least that’s what Dany had concluded over the course of the past few hours.

Her sister, somewhere between her come-out and her nearly fourth year of marriage, had turned into a twit. Not that she hadn’t always been a bit silly and romantical, but exposure to London air or a matrimonial bed or the silliness of Society had picked her up and launched her straight into the land of the cuckoos.

Mari had gone from Utter Despair to Near Euphoria once she’d heard her sister’s news. She’d asked no questions, as if young ladies met a gentleman on Bond Street every morning and were betrothed to him by the time the sun set that night, without something fairly havey-cavey transpiring somewhere in between.

To Mari, apparently, nothing else mattered except how her sister’s sudden engagement affected her. The hero had arrived. Huzzah, huzzah. He’d been immediately infatuated with Dany, and sworn on his sword to Save Them All from Shame and Ruin. One more Huzzah! All would be solved, Oliver would be over the moon to hear he was about to have an heir, there definitely would be more jewelry in Mari’s future and her world would run knee-deep in milk and honey. “Oh, and here, darling sister, take these pearls as my gift to you. You can’t be expected to go about town in grandmother’s horridly cheap garnets now. Ollie will buy me more.”

“Twit,” Dany said out loud as she sat cross-legged in front of the fire and scrubbed at her still-damp hair, her fingers serving as the only comb she’d need. “Twit, twit, double twit.” What did her sister think? That Cooper Townsend had just to wiggle his heroic ears, and the blackmailer would tumble into his lap, Mari’s letters all tied up in a blue ribbon?

Then there was Timmerly. The condescending sneer the butler had conjured up each time Dany came into view had been magically replaced with an annoying series of bows and “Yes, miss. Anything you want, miss. Can I be so honored as to order anything for you, miss? Mrs. Timmerly is already planning a magnificent trifle for your first dinner here with the baron, miss.”

Dany half expected the man to bodily throw himself in her path should an unexpected puddle appear in front of her on her way from the staircase to the drawing room. Why, at dinner, he’d actually offered to cut her meat.

And all solely because she was betrothed to the baron, the hero of Quatre Bras and those silly chapbooks. If everyone were to be as annoying as Mari and Timmerly, her pity for the baron would soon know no bounds. How did he stand all this fawning attention?

And all this business about him working under direction of “someone close to the Crown,” going about the countryside, defending innocent young women from fates worse than death. What nonsense!

She’d read the second chapbook now, as a giggling Mrs. Timmerly had offered her own copy, and she didn’t believe the half of it. The quarter of it. Why, there weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish all the rescues written about in Volume Two.

And what was a fate worse than death, anyway? There certainly wasn’t anything more final than death. Both volumes had been rather vague on that point. Just as they were vague on what the baron did with his rescued damsels. Especially at the end of Volume Two.

Dany picked up the book and read the section again.

Overcome by her Emotions, she cried out in Near Ecstasy as she grasped his strong shoulders, claiming the world could safely rest on their Broad Expanse, just as her fate had so lately done, and Never Fear for her honor, that which she then so Earnestly Offered Him.

“I may not be so sure on the worse-than-death business, but it would take a real looby to not understand what that means.”

“You said something, Miss Dany?”

She smiled at the maid. “Nothing worth a second airing, no. Life is strange, isn’t it, Emmaline? One moment you think you know everything, and the next you’re certain you’ll never really know anything. And yes, before you say it, in between those two opposing conclusions is the part where I do things like cut off all my hair.”

“It will grow back, miss. It’s doing it already. I would even go so far as to say it looks rather fetching, all clinging to your neck and your cheeks and such. Not that I’d say the same if your poor mama was to be sitting here with us.”

“Value your position that much, do you?” Dany grinned at the maid as she got to her feet, already untying the dressing gown she’d donned after her bath. “Time for me to get dressed, Emmaline. Tell me, what does one wear to welcome one’s betrothed into one’s bedchamber just before midnight?”

The maid blushed to the roots of her thinning gray hair. Emmaline had been with the Foster family for decades, a sweet, homely woman who’d never so much as walked out with a young man during her youth. Dany had long ago given up asking her to answer the questions her mother avoided. “About what you’ve got on, Miss Dany, or so I’ve heard.”

“Emmaline, for shame!” Dany giggled then, but she could hear her sudden nerves in that giggle, and quickly stopped. “I think the blue dimity, please.”

The maid frowned. “The one with all the buttons, miss?”

“Precisely. What do you think is going to happen tonight, Emmaline?”

“I couldn’t say as I’d know, Miss Dany. Begging your pardon, I haven’t known what was going on with you since you could stand up and walk on your own.”

“I’m a sad trial, I know,” Dany said, giving the woman a quick hug. “If Evie hadn’t married last year and gone to live with her innkeeper husband, you’d still be second maid to Mama, and not forced to deal with her unmanageable daughter. Shall we blame Evie?”

“No, Miss Dany, for if she hadn’t married she’d be here with you, and I’m that happy to be in London, able to visit with my brother Sam in the stables on my afternoon off. Sam always said he wasn’t built for sitting around in the country.”

Sam was built for sitting, however—at the dinner table.

“That’s right, I’d forgotten Sam is part of the earl’s London staff. That might be something I should keep in mind,” she ended half to herself, knowing no one could have enough allies. Sam, so rotund that at least two people could hide behind him, could also be set to watch the tree from the stables. It probably wouldn’t take more than some leftover pudding to gain his allegiance. She needed to remember to tell Coop about Sam.

Coop. He’d be here soon, tapping his foot as he waited outside for Emmaline to let him in. How had the evening dragged on for days, and now in these past few minutes she had nearly run out of time.

Emmaline approached with the blue dimity, but it was too late for that. All those buttons.

“Here,” she said, grabbing the gown and tossing it on the bed. Good Lord, Emmaline had turned down the covers! Well, that invitation had to be remedied, at once. “We’ll forget this. Just bring me my green riding habit and take yourself off to the side door to let the baron in, all right? We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Your riding habit, Miss Dany? You’re going riding this late? Ah, Sam won’t like that, thinking he has the cattle all bedded down for the night.”

“Tucks them in, does he?” Dany put her hands on the maid’s shoulders, steering her toward the door. “No, I’m not going riding. It’s one outfit I can manage by myself, that’s all. Now go.”

She didn’t mention that it was also one outfit she could run in, thanks to its divided skirt, just in case the need arose. Certainly the baron didn’t think she would meekly watch from the window if the blackmailer showed up and not follow after him when he set off to bring the rotter down. What was the sense of joining an adventure if she couldn’t go adventuring?

After securing the skirt at her waist, she slipped her bare feet into a pair of half boots, donned and buttoned her jacket and was just about to wonder if Cooper had changed his mind when the door opened and he walked into the room.

Oh, my.

He was dressed in evening clothes, all severe black and pristine-white stock, all loosely tumbled blond curls and bright green eyes.

And big. She hadn’t realized he was quite that big. The generously sized bedchamber suddenly seemed uncomfortably small, now that he was in it.

And with the bedcovers still turned down...

He greeted her with no more than a nod, and then turned to Emmaline. Dany imagined the look on his face as he did so, since the maid bobbed two quick curtsies and left, closing the door behind her without so much as a glance toward her mistress.

“That was ridiculously easy,” he said, tossing his hat onto the bed, of all places. “Although I probably could have done without the butler and his wife, lined up with all the other staff in the hallway, welcoming me. Next time, if there is a next time, I might just as well use the front door knocker, and perhaps bring along a marching band.”

“I had no idea...” Dany stopped, shook her head. “No, that’s really not true. I should have known. Does this happen all the time? People turning near-imbecilic at the mere prospect of seeing you?”

“Since the chapbooks, you mean? More than enough of them, yes. And if our blackmailer has one of his informers on the earl’s staff, by tomorrow he’ll know he can’t risk returning here to carry on his knothole correspondence with the countess, so let’s make the most of this single night we do have.”

“You really think someone on the staff is in the blackmailer’s employ? Really? And what are you doing?”

Coop was moving about the bedchamber, using a brass snuffer to extinguish the candles. “To answer your first question, nothing is impossible. As to the second, we need this room in darkness before we push back the drapes.”

Dany pulled a face. “Oh, I did that wrong, didn’t I? If he did think to deliver another threat, he clearly would have seen me outlined against the glass, wouldn’t he?”

“In your defense, you’re rather new at this,” he said, snuffing the last candles, pitching the room into darkness save for the light from the fire. “Will you be staying here with me, or are you planning a midnight ride?”